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<title>Crowley’s Flat, 4:04 AM: The Very First Day Of The Rest Of Their Lives by WorseOmens</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454132">Crowley’s Flat, 4:04 AM: The Very First Day Of The Rest Of Their Lives</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens'>WorseOmens</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ficlet, Humour, M/M, Oops, The night after the apocalypse that didn’t happen, he just got carried away, oh dear Aziraphale, short fic, slight crack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:01:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorseOmens/pseuds/WorseOmens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale goes back to Crowley’s flat after the not-pocalypse. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>194</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crowley’s Flat, 4:04 AM: The Very First Day Of The Rest Of Their Lives</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’d done it. They’d averted the apocalypse. </p><p>The bus ride home had been long and tense and pervaded by a sense of unreality, though to be fair to the bus, most public transport entered the same otherworldly state in the small hours of the morning. Still, it clung to Crowley’s skin. It made him fidget and itch. He might’ve been ready to shed, but now really wasn’t the time. Aziraphale was coming back to his place. That raised plenty of questions about what that really <em>meant, </em>but he’d gotten in trouble for asking questions before. He figured he’d let it lie for now. He needed a shower anyway. </p><p>He went to the bathroom as soon as he got home. The running water was the perfect balm for stress. If he listened closely over the rush of the shower, he could hear Aziraphale pacing in the next room, muttering to himself. Crowley tried to ignore it, tried to pretend like there was no world (or rather, no Heaven and Hell) beyond his black shower curtain... It would be all too real when he stepped out again. They had a prophecy to figure out. It was as odd and cryptic as ever they came — <em>choose your faces wisely,</em> I mean, who says that? Crowley rubbed his eyes, grumbling under his breath. The water ran down his face. It was a poor man’s escapism, but heigh ho. Metal shrieked as the shower curtain was wrenched aside.</p><p>“Crowley I’ve — <em>stop screaming, it’s me </em>— I’ve figured out the prophecy!” Aziraphale cried victoriously, as Crowley slipped and fell with a strangled shriek. Aziraphale realised a moment later that he’d been reaching for the shower curtain in his hand. “Ah. Um... Had I better wait outside, perhaps...?”</p><p>“If you don’t mind,” Crowley grunted, laying in the bath in an odd position, his gangly limbs hanging over the rim as if he was trying to keep his socks dry — not that he was wearing any.</p><p>“Ah — Ahem — Terribly sorry. Just got a little carried away,” Aziraphale said, sheepishly pulling the shower curtain back around to escape that jaded yellow stare. “Do enjoy the bath, dear.”</p>
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